


Subjugate, Subdue, Submit

by litsasecret



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Fallen Angels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:12:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litsasecret/pseuds/litsasecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes I dream I'm an exterminating angel, a traveling executioner sent from Heaven. Sent to give you the prettiest death I knew."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subjugate, Subdue, Submit

**Author's Note:**

> Posted in response to this prompt: http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1872804

Adam discovered him before he was ready for it, and it was all Tommy could do to duck in time. He recovered quickly, wings flaring dark and silent behind him, a shining silver katana appearing in his grip.

“Really?” Adam asked, a smug half-smile twisting his lips.

Tommy shrugged, adjusting his stance and holding the weapon between himself and his target. “I thought you might appreciate the drama of it.”

“Oh, sweetie. Believe me, you don’t need a ridiculous sword in order to give me _drama_. I mean, an exterminating angel? Really? Whatever did I do to deserve this?”

“You sow seeds of anarchy and destruction in the hearts of those you’ve _converted_.”

“Huh, and usually it’s simply because I bear the Mark of Cain or some such.”

Tommy snorted at that. Adam thought he was being clever, distracting, _ironic_. But Tommy had been doing this for the entirety of his existence. It wasn’t that easy.

Adam uncoiled his whip, still smirking. “Come on, Tommy Joe. Do you really want to do this?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tommy hissed, darting in before Adam could use the reach of the whip to his advantage. Adam was ready for it, however, and other than a glancing blow off his arm, leaped back unharmed.

Adam laughed outright, and cracked his whip once to disarm Tommy, the katana clattering uselessly across the floor. He snapped it across Tommy’s face next, causing a searing pain and making Tommy bring up his hands protectively. A third blow caught him across his chest, and Tommy couldn’t breathe for the shock and pain.

“I liked you much better when you were pretending to be stealthy,” Adam said before turning and walking off, his trench coat flaring out dramatically behind him. “Though the wings are a nice touch,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

Tommy was so, so fucked.

The next night, Tommy joined him on stage, and Adam smiled at him, approval and amusement warring for dominance in the expression, but he could hardly let Adam go free, especially not if Adam was going to let him stay.

That was the first time Adam kissed him, too, hand strong and controlling against his jaw, tongue pressed in dirty and hot and _public_ and Tommy knew that Adam had decided to add him to his arsenal of tools, would use him to foment chaos among the normal humans, but in that moment, his very grace caressed by glorious evil, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Tommy waited for him in his hotel room that night, his katana visible but sheathed, and while he’d started out the evening completely poised, by the time Adam decided to grace the room with his presence, he’d run his hands through his hair a dozen times and was feeling frantic.

He had to finish this, and soon.

Adam entered with two young men, soft and human and clinging, with Adam smiling like they were indulgences, offerings to a pagan god to spare the rest of the tribe.

Tommy stared in horror.

Adam laughed. “Oh, look. Another boy come to join my party.” The men looked up at Tommy at that, eyes wide, pupils blown huge with lust. “This should be fun.”

“I’m here to kill you,” Tommy said desperately.

“That should be fun too, even though you can’t. I admire you for trying though.” Adam’s sincerity lashed him like the whip had the night before.

“Why do you do this?” Tommy wondered aloud.

“I could ask you the same thing, but I think I know the answer better than you.”

“Then _tell me_.”

“Do you know I used to be jealous of them? Seething humanity, fucking and killing and eating and shitting, all those things pretty little angels like you couldn’t be.”

“Nor you,” Tommy whispered.

“And that’s when I realized the futility of jealousy. It’s hard to be jealous when I can be the same as them, should I want.”

“But why?”

“Why are you here, Tommy Joe?”

“I was sent to exterminate you.”

“My very own avenging angel, sent to give me the prettiest death he knows how. I’m so very, very sorry for you.”

“That isn’t your place,” Tommy said, feeling helpless. Adam wasn’t supposed to feel pity.

“Then a bargain. A soul for a soul. One year—You spend one year with me, and one year from today, I’ll let you put your dramatic sword through my chest.”

“I—really? But. What do you get out of it?”

“I just told you, Tommy Joe. It should be easy enough for you to agree. What’s one year to either of us, really? What more damage could I wreak in a year, especially with you right there to temper my… chaos?”

“I…”

“Say yes, pretty angel. Tell me you’ll be mine for a year.”

“I can’t trust you,” Tommy whispered.

“Here,” Adam said. “Give me a feather, and I’ll give you blood, and then we can’t renege.” He reached for Tommy’s katana, carefully swiping the sharp edge across his palm. A tiny pewter phial floated beneath to catch a drop. Adam caught it up and handed it to Tommy.

He smiled, leaning forward as if to hug Tommy, before he swiftly jerked a feather from Tommy’s wing. Tommy pulled away, scowling. “I never said yes.”

“Too late, baby. You’re mine now.”

Tommy glared, wings fluttering behind him, glistening black in the shadows of the room.

“Now, join me if you’d like; I’ve got some entertainment lined up for the evening.”

Tommy remembered the young men rather abruptly, and stared in horror as Adam turned back to them, dismissing Tommy wordlessly.

He fled.

As if he could get very far. He'd made a _bargain_.

 

ONE YEAR LATER

 

Tommy Joe panted beneath him, his wings spread black and sinful against white sheets. Adam traced invisible patterns down his angel’s ribs, and Tommy Joe arched into the touch, whining incoherently, wanton, wanting.

“Mine,” Adam muttered into his skin, even as he moved his hands to the angel’s wings, stroking the feathers, relishing the high-pitched keening the touch drew from him.

In the moment of Tommy Joe’s climax, he felt the bond he’d forced between them fall away like angel’s breath against his skin, and he smiled down at the way Tommy Joe had relaxed, satiated.

Adam eyed the table next to the bed where his whip was coiled, where Tommy Joe’s katana was laying, ignored.

He’d won, and it felt fantastic.

“Wha’?” Tommy Joe mumbled, looking over at Adam, then _through_ him. “Shit,” he snapped, and then he was vaulting across the bed, taking up his katana, and attacking.

Adam whirled, caught unawares and pissed off because of it, but barely had he seized his whip when Tommy Joe had gutted both of their assailants.

“Oh,” Tommy Joe breathed, looking down at the dead angels before him. “Oh, God.”

“Not anymore, glitterbaby,” Adam murmured, wrapping an arm loosely around his angel’s chest.

“But…”

“They would have killed me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “They. I should have…”

Adam smirked down at him until Tommy Joe looked slightly less worried, then kissed him deeply, passionately, until he’d gone lax in his arms.

Turned out, it wasn’t so hard to catch oneself an angel of death.


End file.
